Puzzle Pieces From The Clay
by WatsWitDaMonkey
Summary: What if Sherlock Was a British pop singer? What if John Was a pop fan? What if they fell in love? Crap summary is crap, just read. I used songs straight from musicians but I accredit them in each chapter. Rating is in-between T & M. Language mostly. Some sexual stuff and drug use later on (ch 4) LONG CHAPTERS
1. Chapter 1

Puzzle Pieces From The Clay

What if Sherlock

Was a British pop singer?

What if John

Was a pop fan?

• • •

What if they fell in love?

AN do you think Ben Gibbard would be mad if he knew I was using his songs to write a Johnlock story? ... I'm sorry. (I'm not sorry) I'm sorry. (No, I'm not sorry)

Ha, anyway go listen to Postal Service cause I've, in essentials, based this story off of him and some other bands too. I'll tell you who I am using and what song I am using at the beginning of each chapter. Yea, well. Here we go.

Molly is WAY OOC here. She's kinda a BAMF. Lestrade kinda is. He's more of a dumb drummer type here.

LISTEN UP CAUSE IM ONLY GONNA SAY THIS ONCE. I AIN'T NO BEDTIME STORY LADY.

If you think I own anything, you are severely mistaken because I own nothing. These songs were written by amazing people who can do amazing things with words and I could never dream of being as successful as them. And I'm not even British so I have no claim whatsoever to Sherlock Holmes or John Watson or anyone. I'm just using these songs and characters for my own personal enjoyment.

1. Song: Soul Meets Body

Band: Death Cab For Cutie

"Da da da da DAAAAAA!" I yelled tunelessly in our van.

"Sherlock, shut up!" Lestrade yelled back at me from the driver's chair.

"Molly, you like my singing, don't you?" I whined.

"I-well, humm," Molly avoided. Bassists tended to do that sometimes.

I waltzed over to her, "Come on, Mollz, you know you love it." I put my hands on her knees and teased.

She rolled her eyes, "G'off Sherly." She pushed her legs out and I let go and walked back to my previous place on the couch.

"Humph!" I said, "Well the rest of England and some of America likes my singing," I mumbled pointedly.

"Tough shit, Sherlock," Lestrade said, "I just like drumming."

I rolled my eyes drummers sometimes! Something about being a drummer and having a tolerable personality just didn't go together. But guitarists like myself, now there's where you split; some guitarists were total douchbags and some were great people. I wasn't sure which one I went under quite yet.

I looked back to the back of the van where our two roadies were, Anderson and Donovan. They were terrible! Absolutely despicable people, I sniffed inwardly and stopped reducing things from them.

To distract myself I yelled up to the front, "'Strade! How much longer till we get to our stage tonight?"

"Couple hours," he responded.

"How many's a 'couple'?" I asked suspiciously.

I heard him sigh, "A couple, Sherlock. Like one or two."

There wasn't anything to do. I groaned for a minute before jumping up and going to turn on the TV. I watched the beginning of The Mentalist then happily flipped to an episode of Doctor Who. I turned the Dooo-Weee-Dooo part up 'obnoxiously' (Anderson) loud to show my delight and I jumped around the van like a child on red bull, singing along. But that still didn't fill up /all/ my time and so I just went to sleep for the remaining.

When I woke up Anderson was leaning over me, yelling for me to wake up. I pushed him away from me, stood up and followed Lestrade out into the world of downtown London.

"Fuck yea," I breathed out, glad to be back in my hometown.

"Oh, breath that rich, London air!" Molly relinquished. Lestrade hooted agreement and exaggeratedly breathed in and out.

We were at our hotel we'd be staying at that night. It was downtown and I could see the lights of the downtown London glowing not too far away. The Grunts - Anderson and Donovan - got everyone's bags out of the van. I didn't get my bag; one of them'd have to carry it. I sniggered to myself and walked inside being closely followed by Lestrade and Molly. I went up to reception and leaned on the desk.

"Hello, welcome to The Hotel! Do you have reservations?" the woman behind the counter asked.

"Ahh, we should. Here," I said. I turned back to Anderson and shouted, "Anderson!" He grumbled but walked up to the front desk (I happily noticed he put down two bags, mine and his) and dealt with our reservations.

I wandered over to a little area where they had some chairs and couches and a very living room nature to it. There was a TV playing some darkly filmed show and I was curious as to what it was. I went and sat on the couch in front of it and watched intently. It appeared to be about two brothers and some guy in a trench coat. That's as far as I got before someone came and sat on the other side of the couch, opening a drink as they sat.

"Hello," the person said, "you watch Supernatural?" The speaker was a man, or a boy. He was at that in-between part, the part where they're about twenty, maybe twenty-one.

I glanced over to him, short, stocky, blonde. Adorable. Hedge-hog-ish. I looked back to the TV before snapping my head back to him, "Hello. Is that what this is?" I gestured to the show.

He nodded, "Yea. Not their best season though. Definitely not." I nodded and looked back slowly. I looked back when he spoke again, "I'm John Watson," he said and stuck out his hand.

I looked at it before I unsurely put mine out to grasp it, "Sherlock Holmes."

"I know," he smiled. "I'm in town to see your show but don't worry. I'm not one of /those/ fans. I just dig your sound."

I nodded, "Okay. Cool." I searched him and saw no signs of him lying to me. I smiled at him.

"Glad you're coming to the show, I'll see you there," I said before Lestrade shouted at me to come along.

"Is that the rest of the band?" John asked.

I nodded, "Heh, yea, anyway. I have to go. I'll see you later, John." I hurried off after the rest of our group, happily seeing that Anderson was still carrying my bag.

Our group was split into two rooms and since Anderson and Donovan were together (though they refused to say anything) they automatically got their own bed in the least. I wanted my own bed and so I got my own and Lestrade and Molly slept together, to the discomfort of both of them. But we were in a band - they dealt with it.

In the morning we had the day to do what we wanted to. I got up at the reasonable time of 7:30 or so AM and went down the hall to the breakfast bar with Molly and Lestrade sleepily in tow. I didn't go so much to eat as I did to watch other people eat and so I didn't get a plate but I did get some tea. And I drank it as I looked around the room. Molly plopped down next to me with a plate full of food and a coffee cup filled with the black liquid. Lestrade was soon sitting at our table as well and eating hungrily.

I then received a text and it loudly broke the single-toned-ness of the breakfast room. I paid no mind to the looks I got and then the double takes as they realized who it was and read the message. It was from my older brother Mycroft.

Hello baby brother, I do hope you're doing well today. I heard you were back in town. Don't get into any trouble that I might have to get you out of. -MH

I rolled my eyes and prepared a reply.

Yes I'm here at The Hotel with Molz and 'Strade. And you know me brother -SH

I smiled, satisfied, and put my phone down on the table. I looked back around to the people and saw a few of the younger people glancing at my group and whispering. I rolled my eyes, 'Yes, yes, it's us. Deal with it but don't bother us or so help me...' I thought to myself. I kept looking and spotted the man-boy I'd met yesterday, John. He was eating alone and reading some book I saw was called The Hobbit. I smiled a little smile of approval and took a sip of tea before I continued to watch.

After breakfast we had gone back up to the rooms to sleep or watch TV before it was a sociably appropriate time to go out on the town. By eleven we decided that it would be normal to go out and find lunch. (We left Anderson and Donovan to shag at The Hotel, 'call if you need us') So we left the hotel and got into the van.

"Where are we heading to?" Molly asked.

"Anywhere! Come on, Sherlock, you know these streets better than any of us. Where's the best place to get some food?" Lestrade asked me.

I thought for a moment, "Well. Here, I'll drive." I began to get into the drivers seat before Molly stopped me.

"Oh no, I'm not dying today. I'll drive," she pulled me away from the seat and smoothly sat down. "'Strade! Keys!" she commanded. He handed her the keys and closed the van door. I sat down grumpily - my driving was fabulous! Lestrade sat next to me and buckled up then commanded me to buckle up. I stuck my tongue out at him and buckled my seat.

Along the way I directed Molly downtown so we could hit the best spot for food and entertainment. She shortly parked and we all stepped out onto the street. I stretched a tad and smoothed out my black skinny-jeans.

"Come on gang, allon-sy!" I announced and we all walked down the street like the badass motha fuckahs we were. Molly pushed her long dyed pink bangs back (her hair was an arrangement of colors from bright pink in the front, black in the back, brownish on top and blue on the fringes; her clothing choice was normal, just black skinny-jeans and a Paramore shirt on) Lestrade pushed up his different colored sleeves (one pale green and other equally pale red; the torso of his shirt was a mustard yellow and his pants were a deep blue color skinny jeans) and I pulled my jacket so the collar stood on end. It felt like we walked in slow motion.

Our slow motion walk ended when I stopped abruptly and the others bumped into me.

"What the hell?" Molly asked and stepped back.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted. I didn't say anything, just kept looking at my point of fixation. Lestrade and Molly looked over at what I was, "Sherlock?" He asked.

I hummed and ran across the street quickly. "Sherlock!" Molly yelled after me and punched the button on the crosswalk but then ended up running across when it was still red. Lestrade followed her closely.

In the meantime I had reached my goal. "John!" I shouted at his back.

He stopped and turned to look at me, "Oh, hello again. Did you need something?"

I tried to remember what I needed because I had temporarily forgotten when he looked at me. "I, I. Humm!"

Molly and Lestrade had caught up to us by now. "Sherlock! What didya do that for? You could've gotten yourself killed!" Molly screeched at me.

I then remembered why I had run across the street, "Oh yes! John, would you go to lunch with me?"

He looked, flustered, at our trio. "I, uh, yea sure."

"Great!" I said and grabbed his arm, leaving my companions behind. He looked back to them apologetically as I ushered him down the street into a restaurant I knew had good food. I imagined Molly in the least knew to go somewhere else and not bother me at the moment.

"Um, Mr. Holmes-" John began.

"Sherlock, please," I smiled at him and we waited to be seated.

"Okay, Sherlock then. Do I want to ask why you wanted to have lunch with me rather than Molly and Greg?" He asked with a confused look then quickly added, "I mean, not that I'm not flattered and to admit a little excited a the prospect of being dragged into a," he looked around, "Italian restaurant by my favorite band member possibly of all time but-"

"Shut up," I laughed. "I just wanted to have lunch with you, is that too much? And I know the owner of this place." I shrugged and looked away.

"Okay," he accepted and questioned no further.

The woman at the front desk looked at me and her eyes practically popped out of her skull, "You-you're. Ohmygawd. Ohmygawd. Ohmygawd. Ohmygawd! You're Sherlock Holmes! Are Greg and Molly with you? Ohmygawd. I literally love all of your music, oh my gawd, you probably want to eat, I guess you need a table for two since I don't see Greg or Molly oh my gawd, come this way Mr. Holmes," she fanned and grabbed two menus before she walked in a direction and gestured for us to follow. I smiled at the shorter man-boy before tugging him along.

"Are most people like that?" John whispered, "Should I act like that?" We laughed quietly.

I responded, "A lot of them do act like that. And no, you definitely shouldn't." I shook my head gravely at him.

I smiled at the waitress as she put the menus down on a table for two, "Thank you."

"Ohmygod," she whispered, "so, so, is there anything I can get you to drink?"

I looked at John. He searched me before he looked up to her and said, "Oh, I'll have hot tea please."

She wrote it down and looked to me, "And for you?"

"Same. Two sugars though," I nodded and she wrote that down too before scurrying off whispering the chant of a fangirl over and over. (Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod Ohmygod)

John perused through the menu, casually looking at me every once in a while. I watched him (I wouldn't get any food. I wasn't hungry) and finally broke the silence, "So you say you're a fan. Tell me something a fan would know."

He looked at me and coughed into his hand, "Well, you, Molly and Greg met in high school. Greg would've been a police detective inspector if he hadn't become a musician, Molly would've been a doctor and you, now you're tricky. You have said many things ranging from criminal mastermind to great detective. And so the band name is Consulting-Detectives but I looked up a definition for that word but here's the thing, that's not technically a word. So I think that's what you's have done. Be a consulting detective, whatever that is." He blushed when he stopped.

I just smiled at him, "You're right on all accounts except everyone keeps saying 'Greg'. Who's Greg?"

He looked confused, "Greg. Gregory Lestrade... Drummer." He raised an eyebrow. "He's in your band."

"You mean Lestrade? His name's Lestrade..." I said, confused.

"Greg's his first name..." John trailed off, disbelieving.

"No it isn't..." I was positive it wasn't but. Hm.

At that point the owner of the restaurant walked by, paused, and turned around to me, "Ah! Sherlock!" He leaned over and hugged my shoulders. "How've you been doing?"

"Ah, Angelo. I've been great, and you?" I smiled at him.

"Fine fine! You know, my daughter put that autograph into a frame. It means a lot to her," he smiled, ever jolly.

"Well I wouldn't be where I am without them," I said and winked at John. "John, this is Angelo. Angelo, meet John."

"Ahh! Hello, John! Any friend of Sherlock is welcome here!" he wrung John's hand, "Free food for the two of you, I cook myself. Watchoo two want to eat?"

"Oh, I don't want anything," I said.

"Oh, but Sherlock! You must," Angelo insisted.

"Come on dude. You should eat. I saw you in the cafeteria today and you didn't have any breakfast," John said sternly.

I sighed and ordered a pasta bowl. When Angelo turned to John I quickly stuck out my tongue at him. He half smiled and tried not to laugh as I made faces at him behind Angelo. "Heh, I'll have, heh! The pasta salad, thank you Angelo," he ordered and when Angelo walked away he stuck his tongue out at me and scrunched up his face. I laughed openly at him. Then he stopped and shook his head, laughing hysterically. "Look at us! I'm having lunch with bloody Sherlock Holmes and we're making faces at each other behind the back of the owner of the restaurant," he shook his head, still laughing. I smiled at him, for some unknown reason he made me incredibly happy.

Little did I know that outside the window of Angelo's evil was brewing. My "Number One Fan" was cooking up a plot to steal me away from the world and keep me for himself. Little did I know, Misery was about to go down while I sat and had lunch and goofed with someone impossibly attractive.

After lunch John and I walked down the street in search of Molly and who I now knew to be Greg. We found them not far off in a record shop and waltzed in and then laughed at each other's ridiculous-ness. Molly and Lestrade raised an eyebrow at us and we giggled at their looks.

"Sherlock, are your drunk?" Lestrade asked.

I just laughed harder, "No! And hey, why didn't you say your name was Greg?"

He looked at me like I was crazy, "Dude, we went to school together! You know my name! I just thought everyone called me Lestrade cause it sounds cooler and separates me from other Gregs."

Molly was looking at John, "Hey Sherly, who's your friend?" I didn't like they way she was looking at him.

I glared at her for a moment before saying, "Molz, this is John. John, you know Molly." They exchanged Hellos and I turned him to Lestrade, "Well, you actually seem to know him better than I do but, John, Lestrade, Lestrade, John." They shook hands and said hello as well.

"So what do you do, John?" Molly asked him, eyes raking him up and down and smiling slightly.

I saw John squirm a moment before answering, "I'm, well. In university at the moment. I'm going to be a doctor." He nodded.

"Smart," she smiled seductively at him.

Lestrade saw my glare and said, "Hey Molly, why don't we go to the jazz section?" She pouted but followed him (mostly because of the firm grip on her arm). I heard her whine when they got over there, "But Sherlock has a friend!" Lestrade shushed her and they looked through the different Jazz CDs and records.

I looked at John who was blushing brightly. I laughed quietly to myself before walking around to a random section.

"So. What type of music do you like?" asked John.

I raised an eyebrow at him, "What do you mean? You know what I play."

"Well, you might like a certain type but play a different type," he mumbled and looked away.

I smiled at him, "Actually you're perfectly right. I like classical music. I play violin and piano as well as guitar."

He looked up to me, "Really? I wish I had time to learn an instrument." He looked through the records. "I love any music. Besides screemo or any of that hard stuff. Metal." He made a yuck sound as his fingers slid through the large, round disks easily.

I leaned on the table and watched him, "I agree." He looked back to me and we didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at each other.

"Cool," he said finally after what seemed like ages spent in heaven. He broke eye contact and went back to the records.

I breathed heavily and went back to looking too.

Our band went back to The Hotel with John constantly at my side. We talked jauntily the entire way, much to the annoyance of Molly and Lestrade. When we finally got to the lobby and the band bad to go down one hall and John another we stopped and suddenly realized where we were.

"Wow, well. Time does seem to really fly doesn't it?!" Molly exaggerated.

I rolled my eyes at her as Lestrade took her arm and waved by to John and told me he'd see me later. I looked back to John, "Yea, well. I guess I should go."

"Yea, I guess you should. I probably should get going too," he bashfully said.

"Right. Okay then. Goodnight," I awkwardly said and we both broke off and steadily walked the opposite way. I stopped and turned back, "Wait, wait, wait," I crossed the lobby floor and stood in front of John's hallway.

"Yea?" he asked hopefully.

"You're on the guest list," I told him.

His eyes flickered, "Oh! The show! Yea. I honestly forgot who you were there for a while." He laughed. "But thank you," he looked up at me.

I nodded, "Yea, no problem."

He nodded, "Right well. Goodnight."

"Yea," we both turned back to our separate halls and walked stockily to our separate rooms.

When I got back to my room I flopped on the bed and closed my eyes. I heard Lestrade snickering. "Shut up, 'Strade." I yelled at him and threw a pillow his way.

Unfortunately it hit an irate Molly and she screamed and threw it back at me. I shouted playfully at her and threw it back. "Sherlock! Stawwwwp!" She yelled and ran over to me. She flopped down on the bed with the pillow in her hands and wrestled me for a minute. Then somehow we ended up kissing.

She jumped off me quickly and we all agreed never to talk about what had just occurred again and we all quickly and awkwardly got into our own beds and turned off the lights.

I couldn't get to sleep right away. It wasn't because of Molz, that was just something you risk having happen when you go on the road with somebody. Just like I'd seen both of them naked and they had both seen me naked. It wasn't weird because none of us liked each other, I was asexual, Lestrade was gay (and had the hots for my brother no doubt, uck) and Molly, well. Molly had other boys in mind. Like John.

I shook my head. John? What was so special about him? He was a fan. A fan, Sherlock. Get your head around that. He wasn't somebody you should imagine kissing anyway. Bad Sherly. But those lips! They were so big. And his eyes so perfectly green. He was ever so handsome. And easy to get along with.

Asexual!

... Yea, right.

I couldn't have these thoughts, freak that I was. So in my mind palace I made a new place, a bus station. I sent my thoughts of John in a flirtatious way away, far away where they would be more suited.

Suddenly I had an idea for a song. I turned on my lights and grabbed my notebook and wrote. I wrote what felt necessary to write, what I literally felt at the time. I wrote about meeting John.

I want to live where soul meets body

And let the sun wrap its arms around me

And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing

And feel what it's like to be new

'Cause in my head, there's a Greyhound station

Where I can send my thoughts to far off destinations

So they may have a chance of finding a place where they're far more suited then here

And I cannot guess what we'll discover

When we turn the dirt with our hands cupped like shovels

Bu I know our filthy hands can wash one another

And not one speck will remain

And I do believe it's true that there are roads left in both of our shoes

But if the silence takes you then I hope it takes me too

So [green] eyes I'll hold you near, 'cause you're the only song I want to hear

A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere

Where souls meets body


	2. Chapter 2

2. Song: Song2  
Band: Blur  
Point Of View: John, but it'll be a short chapter.

The previous night I hadn't gotten to sleep until late, but nonetheless I was down at breakfast promptly at 8:00AM. I had actually woken at 7:20AM but was extremely bored and so I took a shower and looked through the tv channels. Currently, my hair was still damp and my skin fresh. I walked down the hall to the free breakfast bar and filled a plate and got a cup of English Breakfast. I had barely started into my plate when I heard loud noise coming from down the right hall. (my room was in the left) I tried to peer around the corner from where I was sitting but couldn't see anything.

What it had sounded like was ... shrieking teenage girls ... Coming from Sherlock, Molly, and Greg's corridor ... Shit! I stood abruptly and quickly walked to where the noise was coming from.

"Sherlock?" I yelled through the mass of people, teenage girls namely. It seemed all the girls in the entire hotel were here, waving papers and trying to get at Sherlock and the others. I tried to push through but only succeeded in getting knocked over and elbowed and a few boobs to the face. I sat on the ground, dazed and realized what I could do. I got onto my knees and crawled through them. When I stood up I was face to face with Sherlock.

"Quick, crawl," I whispered to him and tried to get Molly and Lestrade out too. Molly was easy because she looked a little like the other fangirls, especially the ones who had pink bangs like her. But unfortunately Greg didn't look like the fangirls so he and I were stuck in the middle until suddenly the girls realized that Sherlock and Molly, their two biggest people of interest weren't there anymore. The screaming subsided and instead there were only a few girls left who calmly asked Greg for his autograph. I walked off and tried to find Sherlock and Molly. I supposed they were probably in the bathrooms or their van so I went to the bathrooms first and actually found Sherlock in there, leaning over a sink breathlessly.

"Sherlock," I sighed a breath of relief.

He jumped about afoot in the air before he saw who it was, "Oh, oh god, John. Thank you, thank you, thank you." He said and rushed over to me. He hugged me tightly.

I laughed and coughed, "Heh, yea, no problem Sherlock." I patted his back awkwardly. He didn't let go though and only hugged me a bit tighter. Then he abruptly let me go and looked at me.

"Thanks again," he held my shoulders. "They were going to eat us alive."

I laughed, "Yes they were. Does that happen often?"

He cracked a half-smile, "Yes. It does." He rumpled my hair, "Your hair is damp."

I smiled at him, "So?" I waved his hand away. "Where'd Molly go?"

"I don't know. We both ran different ways. I think she went out to the van," he mused and put his hands down. He looked at himself in the mirror and pushed his hands through his hair, trying to get some sort of order out of the curls.

"So we should probably find her," I suggested.

He shrugged, "Yea. But if I go out there, they're gonna kill me and then we'll get no where." Then he thought for a moment, "Wait. Switch clothes with me!"

"What?!" I asked surprised.

"Switch clothes with me! If I'm wearing your clothes no one will know it's me. If you're wearing my clothes then they'll think you're me! So you can go out there and create a diversion while I slip easily out and gather Molly and Lestrade and we make a break for it!"

I nodded, a little saddened by his plan for a completely unknown reason. "Uh, yea, alright."

"Oh, it'll be okay, John. They won't hurt you because you're you. They'll only want me or Molz and they sometimes want Lestrade but not normally. Don't be so down, chum!" he explained chipperly and took off his shirt. I raised an eyebrow but did as he followed. We both kept our pants though. "You have to act it though or they won't believe you. It doesn't matter if you even look like me or not, it only matters if you dress and act like me. Try to walk like me, hurry!" I attempted the walk I had seen him preform oh so many times. I held myself the way he did and he was convinced. "Okay! Great! So go out there and disturb the peace!"

I half smiled, not sure of his plan but did as he said. I walked out of the restroom like a Sherlock Holmes who was trying and failing to be inconspicuous.

Someone shouted, "THERE HE IS!" And suddenly they were on me like ants on food. I didn't feel them clawing at me, the disguise would only work for a few seconds, a minute tops. I didn't hear them screaming, I just tried to watch and see if Sherlock got out. I saw a form sneak out from the bathroom and run outside the hotel doors. "Okay then," I whispered.

Suddenly someone shouted, "STOP! IT'S NOT SHERLOCK! WE'VE BEEN HAD!" I received many a glare as they dispersed. I ran outside when I got the chance and saw that the van door was open and Lestrade was vigorously gesturing for me to go with them. I ran across the lot quickly and got inside the van in enough time to close the door before we drove off and the girls found the van and screamed. I sat down on one of the seats inside and breathed.

Sherlock knelt next to me, "Good show, mate. You fooled them."

"I thought you guys were gonna bamboozle!" I landed.

"What! And leave you with my clothes! No way man, give em back he said and pulled his shirt off me and pulled my shirt off him and switched them. "Trousers. Give," he commanded and clenched and unclenched his fists like a child.

I laughed as I stood and pulled them off, "Is he always such a kid?"

"Johnny boy, this is a good day for him," Greg said.

I laughed and gave Sherlock his trousers and grabbed mine, quickly putting them on. Sherlock was smirking at me and I looked at him, questions in my eyes. To anyone else it looked like this:

Sherlock smirked and giggled to himself.

I looked at him, raised an eyebrow at him and half-smiled.

Sherlock only shook his head and continued on with his jeans.

To us it went like this:

Sherlock looked at me, "What are those?"

I raised an eyebrow and cocked my head, "What are what?"

He laughed, "Nothing."

"Come on, tell me."

He went back to his jeans, "I'll tell you later."

I shrugged, "Okay, whatever man, just give me my trousers. You're lucky they fit. Yours were tight on me!"

"Yea, I know."

We both went into fits of laughter then. Sherlock collapsed on the floor and clutched his stomach as he laughed.

Molly shrieked at us from the driver's seat while Lestrade looked severely confused. "What is so funny?!" Molly asked.

I didn't explain very well through fits of giggles, "Tight," I said and sucked in air before looking at Sherlock and only laughing harder.

"Oh my god stop flirting! It's sickening!" Molly pretended to throw up.

"Focus on driving, Molly!" Sherlock commanded.

"'STRADE, TAKE THE WHEEL, I DON'T WANT TO KILL ALL OF YOU," Molly said through clenched teeth.

"Ooh, sorry boys," Greg said and took the wheel from Molly as she got up and stormed over to us.

"Oh, shit shit shit!" I said, laughing and scrambling back.

Sherlock grabbed my leg and I fell over, "No! Save me John!"

"Well I would if I could move!" I yelled and pulled my foot out of his grasp. I scrambled over to Molly and I caught her arms.

"Get off me!" she screeched.

I held her forearms as I watched Sherlock scramble up and he helped me by tackling the both of us. It was a sandwich and I was in the middle before Sherlock rolled of me and helped hold a kicking and screaming Molly down.

"Off!" she yelled one last time and stopped struggling. She looked up at us and started giggling.

"What?! What is so funny?" Sherlock demanded.

She just kept giggling until we both let her up. When we both stood up over her, wondering what the hell was up, she stood up, glared at us and went to sit down behind the driver's seat.

I looked at Sherlock, wondering what the crap that was about. He only looked after her and smiled. He looked over and seemed to notice me. "Oh, yea well. Seems like you're gonna be stuck with us for a while before we attempt to go back to The Hotel," he nodded and sat down on the couch. I followed after him and sat.

"So this is what you guys travel in," I mused and looked around. "Nice."

He smiled, "Yea. A lot of this was my design." He gestured around at different aspects, pointing to the ones he installed, like the couch and the tv.

"Cool," I responded.

We sat in companionable silence before I heard Sherlock whisper something in my ear, "Hey, John."

"What?" I whispered back.

"I like your red pants," he  
whispered and giggled.

I gulped. So that's what he was laughing at earlier. I felt like I was blushing and I probably was because Sherlock just kept smiling madly. "Um. Thanks?" I replied cautiously. He giggled for a moment more before he looked at his watch and saw that it was only ten.

He sighed, "Busy day. Think it's safe to go back to the hotel yet?"

Lestrade nodded, "Yea. I think we'll be good." He turned the van around and we headed back to the hotel.

When we arrived we all cautiously got out and I went in first as a scout or, of need be, a distraction. There wasn't anyone in the lobby and so I signaled for the band to come in. They waltzed in without a problem and Lestrade and Molly went off to their room. I started to follow but Sherlock grabbed my arm, "Let's go to your room," he suggested.

"Um, alright," I said and we walked to my room. I slid my keycard through the handle and we went inside. I turned on the Telly as Sherlock closed the door behind him. "Think there's anything on?" I asked him. He sat on my bed and then began to stretch out.

"Eeeeeh. No, probably not," he said and began to look at the things I had unpacked. I saw him grab my Hobbit book and he perused through it before he went on to my journal. He sat up, "What's this?"

"Aaah, nothing," I responded and tried to snatch it away. He was too quick though and he was looking through my lyrics book. "Sherlock, don't," I tried to stop him.

He put it on his lap, "You write," he said matter-of-factly.

I rolled my eyes, "Yea. So what. A lot of people do, give it back." I grabbed for it.

He stood up and walked around the room, reading from it, "The most recent passage was from last night, maybe," he sniffed the page and did a number of experiments on the physical properties of the writing, "eleven or twelve thirty last night. John do you have insomnia?" He looked at me seriously.

"Just a bit, give!" I brushed away the question and clenched and unclenched my fist at him.

"No, these are brilliant!" he exclaimed and sat in the room's only chair. "I love the one from last night. Can you sing it for me? Do you play an instrument?" He bombard me.

"I can't sing. And I can play a little piano," I told him.

He looked over the song, "Do you have a melody in mind?" He asked. I got out my phone and played him what I had recorded last night. It was me humming the tune. "Okay," he said when it was over. "Can I sing this? Do you mind?"

I shrugged, "I have a feeling you're going to anyway so knock yourself out."

He smiled and began,  
"I got my head checked  
By a jumbo jet  
It wasn't easy, but nothing is no

When I feel heavy metal  
And I'm pins and I'm needles  
Well, I lie and I'm easy  
All the time but I'm never sure  
Why I need you  
Pleased to meet you

I got my head done  
When I was young  
It's not my problem  
It's not my problem

When I feel heavy metal  
And I'm pins and I'm needles  
Well, I lie and I'm easy  
All of the time but I am never sure  
Why I need you  
Pleased to meet you."  
He looked at me when he was done singing my song. "It's, it's. I have to go," he said and dropped my book on the bed and left my room.

I shrugged, "Okay. Bye then."  
-


	3. Chapter 3

3. Song: Clark Gable

Band: Postal Service

Point of view: back to Sherlock, y'all, don't worry

What to do, what to do. I rushed back to Molly, Lestrade and my room and closed the door swiftly behind me. Lestrade laughed at my look, "you look like you've seen a ghost man, calm down."

I ignored him, "Our show's at nine tonight but we need to drop off our gear at seven and be ready to go by eight thirty. It's," I checked the nearest clock, "ten thirty. That gives us about eight hours. Okay." I paced the room, "Allon-sy!" I grabbed my coat from my bed and started out the door.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Molly said and took my arm.

"What?!" I asked her.

"What are you talking about?" she exclaimed.

I shrugged her arm off, "Let's go make a video!"

"What? A video? Like, a music video? Dude, we have people that do that for us," Lestrade protested.

I looked serenely at both of them, "Please just go with me on this." They both shrugged, giving up. I smiled at them and hugged them both before we left our room. I knocked on Anderson and Donavan's room, "Come on! We're going out! You're coming with us!"

The door opened and Anderson poked his obnoxious head out, "Do we have to come?"

"Yes!" I called back and kept walking. I heard him groan and their door close and then soon reopen as they both came rushing down the hall to catch up with the band that were now by the doors. We all left the hotel easily and got into our van and Molly let me take the wheel because I refused to tell her or anyone where we were going.

It took a while for me to remember exactly where he lived and which house it was, but we eventually reached my goal. Lestrade grumbled, "Where the fuck are we, Sherlock?"

"Donovan get your video camera out of the back. Everyone stay here," I told them and got out of the van. I went up to the door I knew well and knocked four times. (And then smiled to myself) When the door opened my ex appeared, looking severely confused.

"Sherlock? What are you doing here?" he asked.

"James! How have you been doing? No, no time for that, we need to film a music video. I need you to pretend that we're in love again." I said jollily.

He still looked confused but nonetheless, "Uh, yea sure. And it's Jim now," he said, thick Irish accent still there.

"Great!" I said, "Could you come with us?"

He shook his head, still dazed - he had been sleeping, "Yea sure, Sherly. Just a sec." He disappeared, laughing quietly into his house. He reappeared a few moments later and stepped out, locking the door behind him. "So what are we doing?" He asked as we walked back to the van.

"I'm having a creative day and we have a little while before our show tonight," I explained and we stepped into the van.

Lestrade and Molly saw who it was and both had different reactions to it, "Oh, James!" Lestrade said and stood up to give him a shoulder hug.

"It's Jim now," he explained and smiled. They released and the now Jim looked over at Molly, "Hey, Molz. Long time," he smiled at her and they hugged for a moment.

I got behind the wheel again as they had their reunion. Then Lestrade came up from behind and knelt next to the driver's seat, "Um, Sherlock, not that I think it isn't a great idea to have your ex here filming whatever this is, um, I don't think it's a good idea." He looked back at Molly and Jim talking, "And they're flirting," he explained in a hushed voice.

I shrugged as we were barreling down the road towards the park, "I need him for some stuff. Test out some theories. Experiments," I told him and glanced at him, nodding.

He patted the seat, "We're trusting you on this, Sherly."

"No need to get so serene!" I told him, "Chill so this video works!"

He countered, "And what exactly is this video about?"

I drummed my fingers on the wheel, "Love. I need to know something."

He shook his head, "But aren't you asexual?"

"I'm beginning to think not. Probably more grey-asexual," I explained.

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

I sighed, "It's where you don't often really love someone. It's just not falling in love easily. You may like someone once every two years or something and it's usually very emotional."

He shook his head, "Man, you go on with your self discovery and shit but leave us out of the middle of it so we aren't caught in the crossfire. We'll play your music and we'll trust you fully but if this ends badly..." he trailed off.

"You'll be fine, Lestrade! You and Molly too! Fine!" I shouted in a hushed voice at him. He shrugged and walked to the rest of the people in the back, leaving me to my thoughts in the driver's seat.

We eventually arrived at the park nearing midday. I parked the car and and we all got out. Luckily there wasn't anyone there who might've recognized us. Just one elderly couple sitting on a bench. "Okay gang, Donovan, set up your camera," I looked around and walked to a spot I thought was good, "here. Jim, you stand," I looked at the shot through my fingers, "there," I pointed, "me, I'll stand here and walk in, Mollz and 'Strade go over there," I pointed to a place off-screen, "Anderson and Donovan shoot in five, four, three-"

"WAIT!" Jim stopped me.

"What?" I was severely confused and a little annoyed at the lessening amount of time.

"What is this scene about?" he asked, "We can't see inside you head, what do you want me to do?"

"Oh, well hum. Paper, paper, paper," I chanted and walked around back to the van where I got out paper and a pen and drew out the mini-play. I walked back out with the paper in my hands and showed it to everyone and soon we were acting smoothly.

In the first scene, 'Ken' (Jim's character) met 'Locke' (my character) for the first time. In the scene they both had parents that wanted to have them get with someone else, someone rich, and they took no mind as to what their children actually wanted. So, they agreed to meet at the park every day at the same time.

I had picked the park I did for a reason - there was a coffee shop next to it. We quickly walked over to it for the next scene. In scene two my character and Jim's character saw each other with their selected mates. Molly pretended to be mine and Donovan pretended to be his, leaving Anderson to film and Lestrade still out of the show.

In the next scene we went back to the park. 'Locke' sees 'Ken' and they kiss passionately. In this scene, Lestrade sees them and takes a photo of them kissing so he could show it to their parents.

The next scene was tricky because we needed two adults. Anderson could be one of the parents. Jim's character only had one female parent so we put Molly in a wig that I found in the van and she played his mother. Then, thankfully and luckily, a woman walked by. We asked her if she could do it and she said sure. And so we filmed the scene using the interior and the exterior of the van. Artfully done, the single mother (Molly) was talking with Jim's chosen girlfriend, Donovan outside the van. (I filmed) Then Lestrade rushed up and showed her the picture. She screamed and fainted into Donovan's arms. On the inside of the van on the couch sat the spare woman and Anderson. Lestrade did the same, rushed in and showed them the picture. The father was angry, as was the mother.

Finally, the last scene included Jim and I at the park, sitting on a park bench and holding onto each other for dear life. Molly, Donovan, the woman, and Anderson appeared (Lestrade filmed unfortunately, I had wanted him to be in this scene, in the background with the picture) The Molly and Donovan pulled Jim away while the woman and Anderson pulled me away. Jim and I yelled and kicked and threw fits, trying to reach each other again but it wouldn't happen.

And by that time it was 5:20 which gave us enough time to drop Jim off back home, the experiment complete (and the results blurry because I hadn't seen the film yet), and go back to the hotel so I could at least look at what we had filmed and then still have enough time to drop off our gear. (Then there was always that little awkward time in between drop off and the beginning of the show where you had an hour or two to kill and I expected we'd probably go back to the hotel so I could edit the film)

Once at the hotel we had about ten minutes and I quickly logged onto my laptop and looked at the first scene. Unfortunately there just wasn't any time and so I shut off my laptop and let Molly and Lestrade pull me away.

We dropped off our gear easily and went back to the hotel. I logged back onto my laptop and spent twenty minutes looking at all the film. After I was done I resided into my mind palace.

Down the corridor, to the left I went. There was a locked door. I looked at it and fingered the chains that spread across it and the giant lock that kept it shut. I touched the wood behind the chains and looked around for the key. I walked down another corridor and saw a door that was slightly ajar. I was curious, who was in my mind palace and how did they get in. I looked at he label on the door, "John" it said. I didn't remember making this room. Perhaps my palace was so advanced it was making rooms by itself now. I pushed the door the rest of the way open and heard a soft voice repeating, "There is truth, Sherlock. Love is real!" I looked around the room, there were quite a few things that were vibrant and easy to remember - it was a well-developed room in my palace. I looked over and saw a desk with a large brass key sitting on top of it. The key was dusty and looked like it hadn't been used in a while. And then I made the connection and I shut the door of that room behind me and came out of my trance-like state. I sat up on my bed and rushed out of the room, down the hall and to John's room.

I knocked on the door hurriedly. John opened the door and began to speak when I interrupted, saying, "You told me something yesterday. A verse? An argument statement? Something, what was it? It had to do with love and truth or something ... we were talking in the restaurant yesterday about one of my songs I Don't Believe. You told me something."

"There is truth, love is real?" he suggested.

"Yes! That's it!" it was the melody I had heard in my mind palace. I looked at him, "Where did you hear that and why do you think it's true?"

He shrugged, "I made it up. So yea I believe in it."

I didn't say anything for a moment and we both just looked at each other. Finally I asked, "But are you ever afraid that it's not true?"

It was his turn not to say anything. Then, "Yes." Was his only response.

I nodded. "Right," I mused quietly. "Hey, what time is it?" I asked slowly, ignoring the fact I had a watch.

He grabbed my wrist and read off, "8:10." He dropped my hand, "You should probably go."

I grabbed his wrist, "Well you're coming too. You're the special guest."

I began to pull him along but he wouldn't move, "I have to get my jacket and shoes," he told me. I nodded and waited for him to return. He came out a minute later with shoes laced up and jacket on. I laced my arm through his and escorted him back to our room where I put on my own shoes and then stopped, a creative pulse flashed through me. I dropped my other shoe and frantically grabbed my songbook.

I was waiting for a cross town train in the London underground When it struck me That I've been waiting since birth to find a love that would look and sound Like a movie So I changed my plans I rented a camera and a van and I called you

"I need you to pretend that we are in love again" and you agreed to

I want so badly to believe that "there is truth that love is real"

And I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd

I greased the lens and framed the shot using a friend as my stand in

The script it called for rain but it was clear that day so we faked it

The marker snapped and I yelled, "quiet on the set" and then called "action!"

And I kissed you in a style Clarke Gable would have admired (I thought it classic)

I want so badly to believe that "there is truth that love is real"

And I want life in every word to the extent that it's absurd

I know you're wise beyond your years but do you ever get the fear

That your perfect verse is just a lie you tell yourself to help you get by?


	4. Chapter 4

4. Song: It's Working  
Band: MGMT  
~AND~  
Song: Paralyzer  
Band: Finger Eleven  
(You might wanna set aside some time, this is kinda a mammoth. Sorry. You can copy/paste on a word doc or on your iPod notes if you want but promise me that you'll only use it for personal reading because I seriously worked hard on this and shit...)

After my creative outburst I realized that everyone was looking at me with scared eyes and (John especially) worried expressions.

"You okay?" John asked.

I nodded and threw my journal back onto the nightstand, "Peachy. Let's go put on a show! Allon-sy!" I said and laced arms with John again as we walked down the hall towards the van.

"So do you like Doctor Who or do you just say that because you speak french?" John asked me.

"The former," I explained and smiled at him, "But I can speak French too. And a little German." He smiled back, slightly amazed, and we climbed into the van.

The club was a 'family-friendly' environment. Our group (Lestrade, Molly, John, Anderson and Donovan) entered in through the back door so we could avoid any possible contact with fanatic people. I didn't really like the club, too clean and happy. Really what would have been cool was if we could score a gig at a bar or a little club. Just, anywhere but here. I hated playing in front of teenage girls who thought me attractive. The screams of "I love you!", though flattering, didn't help my image.

I ignored the place and the people though and began to allow myself to feel the energy of the people and things around me. I needed to feel the music and get prepared for the show. I looked through a window that showed the auditorium and the people inside and to my surprise it wasn't all teenage girls. There was an even mixture of females and males and they all seemed to be about the same age, mid-late teens. Good, I thought. Early teens were the worst. I closed my eyes and felt around for the energy again and felt something bright and good next to me. I peeked out and saw John looking around at all the different people in the crowd. I smiled to myself and closed my eyes again and reached out my hand a little ways to tap his. I felt him tap me back before we clasped them together and we walked along to the backstage area. Eventually I opened my eyes and saw a group of people sitting in a circle and munching on the snacks they had set out.

"Shit," I whispered, remembering that some people got backstage passes. I tightened my grip on John's hand before letting go.

They seemed to notice the six of us and they all stood up, "Hello!", "Hi!", "It's nice to meet you!" and any other arrangement of greeting came from them.

We all let out a groaning, "Hello."

Molly was the friendliest, "Hey guys! Thanks for coming to the show tonight. Means a lot to us," she told them cheerfully and sat amongst them. I looked at John and sighed.

"What time is it?" I whispered.

He took my wrist, "8:20," he said and let go of my arm.

I groaned, "I don't wanna be sociable for ten minutes with these people!" I told him in a hushed voice.

He shrugged, "Not my problem. Have fun!" He pushed me forward a little ways but I caught his arm.

"No, you're coming with me!" I told him and dragged him to sit in one of the chairs. I sat in the one next to him. "Hello, people. You're having a splendid night aren't you?" I said sarcastically.

They all nodded urgently and some giggled. One of them then asked, "Who's he?" and pointed to John.

I glanced at him, "Friend of mine," and looked back at them.

They all looked at one another and /giggled/! Always with the giggling! I leaned back in my chair and waited for it to be nine already. I saw John's hand hanging down from the side of his chair. I reached mine down too and held one of his fingers.

Eventually it became nine pm and it was time for us to go on. By that point I had found a lanyard with a pass on it for John. And so the band led the girls and I still held John's hand to the stage where they walked down to this little circle in front of everyone. I looked out at the crowd in front of me and let go of John so he could walk down. I grabbed my guitar and anxiously played a chord. It amplified out and everyone screamed. I looked back to Molly and Lestrade and they both nodded at me. We knew our setlist and we were ready.

I turned back to the crowd and found John easily amongst others. I smiled and closed my eyes. I heard Lestrade start the drumming pattern and I began to play.

The show had everyone in a better mood but when it was time to go I couldn't find John. We had to make it to the after party and he was definitely invited. I personally wanted to get drunk. (and I personally wanted to get drunk with John) I went down the stage and looked on the main floor for him. I went backstage, to their bathrooms and then to the downstage bathrooms.

I saw his figure standing at a urinal, "John, there you are. Come on man, gotta get to the after-party."

He laughed, "Gees, can't a guy just pee around here?" I heard him zip up his pants and he walked to the sink next to the one I was leaning against.

"No," I said seriously and when he looked over at me I started laughing. "Oh, man. Come on John." I clapped him on the back and we walked out laughing. "Hey John," I began, my arm slung over his shoulder and his arm around my waist.

"What?" he said, still giggling over nothing. He caught his breath and breathed deeply, trying to not laugh anymore.

"I wanna get pissed tonight," I explained and smirked at him.

He raised an eyebrow, "Dude, you're only twenty." I shrugged. He shook his head and laughed again. "Okay man, whatever. Where is this party anyway?"

"Molly's old roommate was so kind as to host it," I told him.

He nodded, "Cool." We kept walking until we got to a door which I held open for him and then we walked back out to the van. Molly and Lestrade were already on the van so we drove off towards Molly's old house.

There were a handful of people there, mostly high-school friends and friends of friends and a couple friend's brother's cousins too. All in all there were probably thirty or forty people there. I noticed that John actually knew a few people there but I also observed that he wasn't one hundred percent comfortable there if I wasn't with him. I didn't say anything, just followed him or he followed me.

Finally it was time, "John."

"What?"

"Let's find the beer," I smiled viciously at him.

He laughed and nodded, "Yes. Let's." We went to the kitchen where there was some food laid out on the table and snacked on that for a moment before I set eyes on the fridge. I opened it and looked around. Upon opening the bottom drawer I found two twelve packs. Of soda.

"Dammit!" I said, frustrated.

"What's wrong? No alcohol for poor, underage Sherly?" John teased.

I laughed, "Shut up!" I shut the fridge door and took John's wrist. "Come along, Jawn," I said, my eyes large and eager.

"Where are you taking me?" he whined.

"Let's find Molly's roommate!" I told him.

"But there's Malteazers!" he said and pointed back to the bowl of chocolate things. I let go of his wrist and he happily grabbed two handfuls and put them in his pockets like a child. I laughed at his antics.

"Grab me some Wine Gums would you?" I asked and he took a handful and with his free hand spread open my palm to put them in. "Thank you kind sir," I said and gave an exaggerated bow.

"Tis nothing, your majesty," he said, his voice going deep and he also bowed.

"Come along now, Sir Jawn. We must find the fair maiden Moss," I dropped the wine gums in my pocket and took his hand and led him away into the mass of people (I swear they doubled!) Then I saw the door open and Lestrade's friends came in, each carrying two cases of beer. My eyes sparkled at the notion.

I ran up to Lestrade's friends (apparently they had been there earlier but Lestrade and them had left to get the drinks and come back. Lestrade was the oldest in our group, being twenty-four). "Hello! Thank you!" I took a bottle out of one of their cases and nodded at them before I went back to the kitchen and found a bottle opener. John was soon there too with a bottle his own. He popped the top off of his and we clinked glasses and drank. "Ahh, finally!" I said and went out into the party again with John at my side. Just then music started to play and I set my drink down on the coffee table and motioned for John to do the same. I went wild, letting my body move of its own free will to the beat of the drums and the sound of the electro keyboard. I had alway wanted a pianist to play in the ConsultingDetectives. People around me began to dance as well but John didn't, he sat on the couch and laughed openly at us. I shook my head at him and pulled him off the couch.

"I'm not drunk enough to dance with you, Sherlock!" he shouted at me over the sound of the music.

I laughed at him, "Neither am I!" We both laughed and went to the coffee table to retrieve our drinks. I couldn't decide which one was mine out of the two so I grabbed the nearest one and took a swig. Then I saw an S on the one John was drinking out of and I looked at my bottle, "John! You're drinking mine!" I yelled at him and snatched my bottle back before handing him his. We finished our first drinks before we went back and got another. More dancing. Then maybe another. More dancing. And only one more. Or two. I lost count.

We found our way back to the dance floor and drunkenly moved to the loud party music. I noticed a joint was being passed around the room. I thought about it before deciding 'why not'. It got passed my way and I took a drag. John took it from me and took one too. Everything slowed down and I danced, completely letting go. I reached into my pocket and ate two of the candies I had in there. Someone turned on multi-colored fairy lights and dimmed the normal lights. I leaned onto John, "Fuck, this is fun!" I told him, "Are you having fun?"

He nodded, "Yes, this is awesome," his speech was slurred and I thought it adorable. We walked back to the kitchen to get out of the heat of the living room. Someone had begun to make a strawberry cake but it never made it to the oven and people were in there slinging the pink batter everywhere. I laughed at them all and dipped my fingers into the batter. I licked my fingers off before I felt something wet hit the side of my head.

I turned and saw John licking his fingers off and looming at me with a smile. I laughed and gathered the pink batter in my hands, "You're going to get it." I told him and wiped my hands on his cheeks, leaving them highly pink.

He bit his lip, dipped two fingers in batter and stood on his tiptoes so he could reach my face better. "You're eyes are in the wrong place," he told me and painted swirls on my cheeks. I smiled at him and leaned down to kiss his nose.

He raised an eyebrow at me but I shrugged, "Drunk and high," I explained and laughed. I got more batter out and flung it at him. It landed on his shirt.

"Sherlock!" he yelled and got some batter before he chased me out of the room, fingers dripping. We ended up back on the dance floor when he caught up to me. He stood on my toes and wiped his hand on my neck. He kept one hand there and put the other in my hair and I placed my hands on his sides as we danced together.

Then one of my own songs came on and I covered my ears, "NONONONONONO!" I said and sat on the couch grumpily. John got pushed over and sat down next to me. I looked at him and started to giggle. I wasn't actually sure what was funny, just something was. It was probably how his hair stuck out at odd angles and was pink in some places.

"WAT?" he yelled at me and then too started giggling. It escalated into all out laughter, tears were streaming down our cheeks and we clutched our stomachs.

"WHY DO YOU FUCKING LAUGH AT EVERYTHING?" Molly yelled at us as she passed by with someone I recognized hanging on her and she was equally hanging on him.

I kept laughing as I asked, "Why are you making out with Jim?" And John and I laughed harder. She ignored us and went over to a corner where I noticed she and Jim were making out extremely.

"Jawn..." I mumbled into his neck when we had stopped laughing. Now we were ... cuddling. He hummed and wrapped a leg around one of mine. "I'm ... Tired." I explained sleepily.

"Me too," he told me, his voice muffled from his face being buried in my hair. "Mm, but you smell good, really good," he slurred. "I wonder if you taste this good."

I untangled myself from him abruptly and found the nearest piece of paper and writing utensil (Which turned out to be a baby blue marker) and wrote something that came to mind. All throughout the writing I glanced back to a snoozing John.

Here, you focus  
So I can see your faces  
The eyes are wrong  
How will I know if it's working right?  
Light confuses  
The tiny isles of bruises  
The mangled lines  
I see the signs of aging  
But if I try to feel at all I am deceived  
My mind's affected  
It's empty now  
As I lay down  
I feel alright  
My heart is racing  
Turn the noise on  
I'd like to feed my poison  
Assembly lines  
Carry a velvet warning  
To the yard  
It's just like striking matches  
The polish lies  
But it's working in your blood  
Which you know is not the same as love  
Love is only in your mind  
And not your heart  
No, it's working

It's working in your blood  
Which you know is not the same as love  
Love is only in your mind  
And not your heart  
When I finished I left it on the table and tangled myself back with John.

When I woke up I was not on a couch and John was not in my arms. I opened my eyes, the lights were way too bright and so I shut them again and groaned.

"Mmm," I heard, "Sherly's all hungover. Sebby, get him some coffee wouldn't you?" It was someone with a light voice but an Irish accent.

I opened my eyes and what I saw surprised me, "Jim?" I asked.

He nodded, "Hey Sherly."

I looked around, "Where am I?" I tried to move but couldn't. I looked at my wrists and ankles, "Why am I chained to a bed?"

"Oh. You don't get it, do you?" then a door opened and somebody came in, "Ahh, Sebby. Thank you." The man called 'Sebby' handed Jim a coffee cup and stood guard by the door. Jim came and sat next to me on the bed. "Here Sherlock. You should drink this, it'll help your hangover." He put the coffee cup to my lips. I didn't know whether to trust him or not but I knew that coffee would help. I parted my lips and let him pour the hot liquid in. He took the cup away and I could feel its effects taking place.

"Where's John? And where am I?" I asked. I mean, Jim had been kinky when we dated and the two times we had sex but chaining me to a bed unwillingly was not something we'd tried.

"Your groupie is fine. So is everyone else," he told me.

"He's not a groupie," I spat. "Let me out of these."

He tsk'd and got up from the bed, he set the coffee cup on a table. "Then what is he?" his eyes flared as he shouted at me. I didn't say anything and he smiled, "Exactly. Anyway. Your groupie is over there," he pointed, "he drank some of your beer so he got some of the treat I put in there for you."

I looked in the direction he pointed and saw a figure chained to the wall, "John!" I yelled, "You let John go, he's got nothing to do with any of your plans! You don't want him!"

"Oh but I do!" he looked excited, "we need to kill him so that you can be free. So you can write your beautiful songs without being burdened with someone who wants you for his own personal gain. He doesn't care about you. He's a fan! And you're asexual!"

"Wasn't so much when I fucked the virginity out of you," I spat at him.

His nose twitched, "DON'T. INTERRUPT," he shouted deliberately and slapped his hands on the end of the bed. He smiled at me again, "Ever seen Misery, Sherlock?" He asked. I nodded. "I'm your number. one. fan," he leaned to me and whispered, "and you're never leaving."

"Right, so you don't need John!" I yelled.

An awful smile appeared on his face, "Seb. Shoot the groupie."

"Will do, boss," he said and aimed his gun at the chained figure.

(it's time for a POV change, don't you agree? Eeeheheh)

I woke up suddenly and felt around me. When I didn't feel anything I cursed aloud, one night drunk stand. The bastard wasn't there. "Damn you, Jim," I said and got up. I stood up and stretched. I walked to my old shower and took a quick one. I just put on the same clothes I'd had on earlier when I was done.

I went downstairs and saw the mess we'd made of Moss's house. I clenched my teeth and sucked in, I'd really have to apologize. There were a couple people passed out on the floor or couch and the room reeked of alcohol. I heard a groan from the behind me and saw Lestrade sitting sideways in a recliner.

"Fuck. Hangover," he moaned.

"Tell me about it," I replied. "And this place is a mess. We gotta help Moss clean up. So get up."

He groaned and stood up. He stretched and his back gave a sound pop. Then we heard a phone ring and Lestrade reached over to the table and picked it up. It was Sherlock's phone and the ID said Mycroft. Lestrade smiled to himself for a moment before answering, "Hello? ... No, this is Greg. Greg Lestrade ... Yea, I'm fine just a little hungover. ... Yes, I think they did ... Sherlock has got a friend and they seemed to be having a lot of fun last night ... Yea hold on, let me find them. I'm sure they're around here somewhere though," he began to walk around the room and he covered the speaker and said, "Mollz, help me find Sherlock and his friend. Check upstairs," he went back to the phone, "yea, Mycroft we're looking now don't worry..."

I went upstairs to where the bedrooms were. Jim and I had occupied the first room, my old room so I checked the second room which was a guest bedroom. There were two people snoozing together, both quite naked. I closed the door, they weren't Sherlock or his friend, John I think. I checked the last bedroom, there was only one girl sleeping soundly on top of the bed. Upon further inspection I saw there was some other girl sleeping on the floor and one under the bed too. I shook my head, not wanting to know what had occurred. I left that room and went to one of the bathrooms to see if someone was in the someone in the tub. There was. But it wasn't Sherlock or John.

I shrugged and walked downstairs, "They're not up there," I told Greg.

He looked dismayed, "They're not down here either," he explained and told Mycroft that they weren't anywhere to be seen.

"Did you check the van?" I asked.

He shook his head, "No I saw Anderson and Donovan go out there last night. Sherlock wouldn't've"

I pondered, "Gimme the phone," he handed it to me, "Mycroft, yea it's me, Molly. Hey, neither Sherlock nor John are here, as Lestrade has said but I was wondering how you seemed to know. You call the day afterward and ... Wait, Jim's not here either," I mused.

"Jim? Who's Jim?" I heard Mycroft say.

Lestrade looked confused and so I explained, "Slept with him last night wasn't here this morning."

"Yea, hold on Croft," I hung up on him and looked at a bottle on the table that had a big S on it. I sniffed the lid and could've thrown up. "Shit. Smell that," I told Lestrade and he took a whiff.

"Dammit, Sherlock. How did he not notice that?" he exclaimed and took deep breaths to get the smell out of his nose.

"I don't know. Having too much fun. See what I'm thinking is that someone poisoned his drink but John and Sherlock both drank out of this bottle," I explained and scrutinized the bottle.

"Isn't that guy supposed to be studying to be a fucking doctor?" Lestrade was furious, "How did he not notice?!"

"Man, I don't know. We gotta find them. But it's weird. A little fishy. I don't know," I put down the bottle.

Lestrade groaned, "Man, why did Sherlock have to take the joint and drink?! Now we can't get police involved cause they'd know we had a party with underage drinking and marijuana use. Dammit!" He took a tiny pillow off he recliner he'd slept on and threw it across the room. It landed on someone and they only sniffed and rolled over. "What are we gonna do?" he asked me.

"I don't know, we have to find them."

"But we don't even know where they went!"

"It's Sherlock!"

"But he was obviously drugged and we don't know anything about that John guy except what he told us!"

I shrugged and looked around the room for any clues I could find. Sherlock would've laughed at me and said it was obvious. "Okay. Let's think about this rationally. Last night they got drunk and high and drugged. They're probably sick as a dog right now and if they're anywhere they're probably together. I don't think either of them left of their own free will because of the drug in their drink, they were the first to go to sleep last night. What time would you have to come here to make sure everyone was asleep so you didn't run into anyone who would've tried to stop you? 4:30AM? 5:00?" Lestrade nodded, "Okay. So. Around 4:40AM last night someone who was more than likely at the party took Sherlock and John away somewhere. Now who and where?" I began to pace the room. "Oh, wait!" I slapped my forehead, "I remember now that Jim got up around 4AM last night! I thought he was just going to piss so I didn't think anything of it. Oh my god, I'm positive it was him!"

Lestrade stopped me, "Motive!"

I thought, "He is insane. Like, I remember Sherlock talking," I closed my eyes, "he's actually insane. Had to go get help from a care center." I opened my eyes, "I mean, does that sound good?"

He shrugged, "Man, it's the only lead we have."

"Where should we do?" I asked.

Lestrade thought, "I guess we should go to Jim's house to see if he's there."

I nodded. I wrote a note to Moss saying that we'd be back to help clean up some time soon and we apologized yadayadayada. Then we went out to the van and made noise, getting the pair inside to wake up and prepare themselves.

(ok, Sherlock point of view again, I won't torture you lovelies any more XD)

"NOOOO!" I screamed as Moran aimed his gun. I struggled against my restraints and screamed again.

Jim watched me carefully and then raised his hand at Sebastian. "Sebby, hold on a second." I was at the point of tears and they streamed down my face in ribbons as my breath came out in hitched sobs. Jim came over to me and sat back on the bed. He stroked my face and I saw Sebastian lower his gun. "Sherly," he began, "Sherly, I don want to make you unhappy. If I let this groupie go will you be happy?" He crooned as he kept stroking my cheeks.

I jerked away as much as I could but said strongly, "Yes."

An evil smile came across his face, "Well then." He stood up, "Seb. Shoot him for real this time."

"NOOO!" I screamed again as a shot rang out. John seemed to wake up at the noise and he suddenly screamed in pain. "John!" I yelled.

He made a noise that was only half human. "Sherlock," he gurgled painfully.

"John, hold in there, someone's coming for us, hold on!" I told him, struggling against my restraints. He gurgled a scream again.

Jim started laughing, "Oh, there's no one coming, Johnny Boy." He began to walk around the room, "No one at all. You're going to bleed to death."

"Stop this!" I yelled, "Please, do what you want with me but let. John. Go!"

He shrugged, "Okay. John, you're free to go." John began to try and stand up but he was too dizzy from blood loss and he fell down. Jim smiled, "See, Sherlock. He's going to die. Ohh, this'll be fun to watch!" He leaned over the bed and watched me. His head rested on his curled hands.

I spit on his face, "You're a fucking monster," my eyes glanced nervously at John. God, this was not going to be an easy predicament to get us out of. I could honestly see no possible way of getting out of this ... unless. I looked around the room, they'd leave soon, wouldn't they? They always leave the room and that's when the heroes do something awfully heroic. Like get out of the cuffs and save their love or someone finds them and they get help or... Did I just think of John as my love?

Yes, yes. I did.

(POV update; let's see what Molly and Lestrade are doing)

We barreled down the highway towards Jim's house. When we finally got there I went straight to the door; if he wasn't the one who had Sherlock and John captive then I personally would have motive for going to his house and giving him a stern word or two. I knocked on the door harshly. "Jim?" I yelled and knocked again, "Jim Moriarty! Come to this goddamn door!" I pounded on the door until it finally opened.

It wasn't Jim who opened the door, instead it was a tired looking boy, "Who are you?" He asked. He was probably fourteen.

"I'm Molly. Where's Jim?" I Asked him and looked past him into the house.

"Why do you want my brother? What's he gone and done?" the kid asked, slightly worried sounding.

I looked at him, trying to see if he was lying, "Do you know where he is?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, "No. But he left us this message on the counter last night. He went to some party last night and then he stopped by the house really early this morning. He comes and goes so I wasn't really worried. What's he done?"

"Can I see the message?" I demanded.

The boy went inside and then quickly came back, "Here. What's he done?"

I took it from him and scanned it over, 'Martin, I'm gonna be out today. There's eggs and food and pizza in the fridge. Don't worry about me, Jim 3' I looked at the kid, "Martin Moriarty?"

He nodded, "Yea, that's my name."

I looked back down to the letter, "Fucked up name." I sighed exasperatedly, "Dude this doesn't say where he is. Do you have any idea where your brother is?" I looked back up at him and flicked the letter before handing it back.

He shrugged and took it, "There's this place by the docks that he goes sometimes..."

"Tell me," I demanded.

He sighed, "Look, lady! I don't know who you are and I want to know what my brother's done!"

I looked at him with fire in my eyes, "Jim Moriarty kidnapped Sherlock Holmes and his newfound friend John. We think he drugged them and now we really need to find them both because see his brother, Mycroft fucking Holmes is practically the British government. So kid if you don't tell us where this place by the docks is we can get you arrested for witholdment of information!"

He looked positively scared as he said, "324 Placeview!" he squealed.

I nodded at him, "Thank you!" I yelled and ran back to the van where Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan were waiting.

"Well?" Lestrade asked.

"324 Placeview! Go! By the docks!" I told him and sat down in the back.

We finally got there, 324 Placeview. It was a dirty, ramshackle collection of run-down shacks by the water. They weren't houses, nor businesses, probably they were just some places that people used for storage. Though, on further thought, I didn't know why anyone would want to store things by the water.

"Where the fuck do we start?" Lestrade asked desperately, looking at the scene before us.

Then we heard soft, muffled music coming from one of the shacks. I shrugged and started off towards it, "I think we start there! Donovan, stay at the van. Keep it running in case we've need of quick get away!" Greg ran after me followed closely by Anderson. Donovan went back to the van and waited for our return.

(Changin' it up again, I might be doing too much of this... POV SWAP also SONG ADDITION!  
Song: Paralyzer  
Band: Finger Eleven

He wanted me to sing for him. This fucking song he wrote and made the backing music such as drums and bass electronically. He wanted me to sing and play it on guitar.

What choice did I have? Sebastian held a gun to me or John depending on who was in greater need of a gun to their head. That and Jim chained me to a stage floor and held out a guitar for me to play. I snatched it from him. Then he held out a piece of paper and daintily said, "I wrote it for you, Sherly. Last night at that fun little party. Mm, I love you so much sometimes. But you'd never notice me. So," he danced around me as I took the page, "I have to do something drastic to get your attention!" He looked at me seriously, "I know all the words to all your songs." He smiled again, going back to the frivolous play, "Now PLAY! I wrote the chords too-see?"

I put the paper on the music stand conveniently placed near the mic. I looked nervously at John who lay unconscious and bleeding. I had a plan already forming. I looked down at the nobs on the guitar, and went back to turn the amp on, my fingers glided easily and secretly to the volume as I turned it up loudly, SOMEONE had to hear us. I casually turned up the guitar volume too as I turned back around. I smiled at Jim, baring my teeth angrily. I glanced back to John and though, 'gee, sorry for the noise' and Jim pressed play on his laptop and I strummed along clumsily. I felt the song and knew where to come in,  
"I hold on so nervously to me and my drink  
I wish it was coolin' me  
But so far has not been good, it's been shitty  
And I feel awkward, as I should

This club has got to be the most pretentious thing  
Since I thought you and me  
Well, I am imagining a dark lit place  
Or your place or my place

Well I'm not paralyzed but I seem to be struck by you  
I wanna make you move because you're standin' still  
If your body matches what your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you

I hold out for one more drink before I think  
I'm lookin' too desperately  
But so far has not been fun, I should just stay home  
If one thing really means one

This club will hopefully be closed in three weeks  
That would be cool with me  
Well, I'm still imagining a dark lit place  
Or your place or my place

Well I'm not paralyzed but I seem to be struck by you  
I wanna make you move because you're standin' still  
If your body matches what your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you

Well I'm not paralyzed but I seem to be struck by you  
I wanna make you move because you're standin' still  
If your body matches what your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you

Not paralyzed but I seem to be struck by you  
I wanna make you move because you're standin' still  
If your body matches what your eyes can do  
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you  
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you  
You'll probably move right through me on my way to you."

It was a good song overall. And very, very loud. It seemed to have worked effectively because, when Moriarty stopped dancing with Sebastian in the middle of the room (almost trampling John several times in the process), someone knocked at the door.

Jim laughed crazily, "Get that would you, Sebastian?" He turned to me angrily, "You were too fucking loud. It's ruined. Now, don't make a goddamn noise." He jumped behind me on the stage and hit a button which turned off all the lights.

There were voices, "Hello!" and "We heard music!" and "Where's the party?" Three different voices, but all very familiar. I knew those anywhere. Anderson with 'hello', Lestrade with 'we heard music' and Molly with 'where's the party?'.

I sighed relief then got worried. Quickly, I dropped and screamed, "DOWN, HE'S GOT A GUN!" I heard three bodies drop and heard two bullets fired. I quickly fiddled with the chains and tried to slip my foot out. I used the end of one of the strings on the guitar and picked the lock. It came off soundlessly.

Jim turned on the lights, "SEBASTIAN DON'T FIRE IN THE DARK YOU ALMOST HIT ME!" he yelled angrily.

"Sorry bo-" he began.

"Nevermind that! Get them!" he screeched and motioned frantically to the four bodies in action, mine included.

I quickly ran at Sebastian, the electric guitar in the air. I screamed at him while Molly and Lestrade got him from underneath and Anderson went to John. Simultaneously, Molly and Lestrade pulled out Sebastian's legs from under him, making him fall backwards and drop his gun which fired, didn't hit anyone, and was retrieved by Lestrade while I hit him over the head with the guitar. I hit him again for safe measure and then again because he shot John. Then once more because he shot John. Then I went on the floor next to him and smashed the bloody guitar like I've always wanted but never had the money to do.

Lestrade and Molly stood up and Greg pointed the gun at Jim's previous location on stage but he was nowhere to be seen. "The hell?" Molly asked.

Suddenly we heard a phone ring, "Stayin' alive, Stayin' alive, ah ah ah ah!" I went over to it, the broken guitar in my other hand. I flipped it open and said, "Hello?"

"Think I'd let you take me out that easy? Nope, Sherly. I'm out. We'll see each other again soon, sweetie!" Moriarty said and he hung up before I could get a word in.

I pocketed the phone and looked at the scene before me. Molly and Lestrade were looking intently at me, Lestrade still holding the gun. I waved a hand at him, "Drop that thing, he shot Jo- JOHN!" I looked over to where Anderson was looking after John.

Quickly, I skidded over there to them. Anderson looked at me gravely, "He desperately needs medical attention. He could die very soon if we don't go to a hospital. Now!" he said urgently. I dropped the broken guitar neck I was still clutching tightly and instead picked up John and held his still unconscious figure in my arms. Molly and Greg and Anderson and I all left the shack quickly, Molly ran ahead and showed us the path through the mass of broken down and fishy smelling buildings.

AN: I don't know anything about London's or England's landscape. Do they even have docks? I know they've got the Thames but ... just go with it.


	5. Chapter 5

5. Song: What Sarah Said  
Band: Death Cab For Cutie

Linoleum floors. White walls. Laughing television in the corner. People sitting, reading, staring. Potted plants. Cold. Hospital.

I didn't know what to do as I waited for the nurse to tell me the outcome of John's surgery. Molly was sitting next to me, alternating between watching me and the TV. Lestrade sat next to her, reading one of the many magazines the had on the desks. Anderson and Donovan sat across from us in a paired seat. I stared at my shoes. Eventually I stood up, Molly started to follow but I told her I was just going to the loo. When I went in I saw myself in a mirror. My hair was clumped together and I still had pink swirls crusted on my face as well as a light pink handprint on my neck. I touched them lightly, not wanting to let then come off but also thinking dully that they probably should. I stood over the sink and looked at my disheveled self. I pushed a hand through my hair and some pinkish flakes came out. I picked at the already cracked swirls and they came off easily. I still felt like shit from having a hangover for one, being drugged for two and being high last night for three. It was hard to think that the party was only last night. It seemed almost as if it was ages ago. I took a deep breath and decided to wash my face off. Does it really take that long to take out a bullet? What if something went wrong? What if John was dead already.

I ignored the sinking feeling that grew in my stomach and pissed before washing my hands and leaving the bathroom, slightly more fresh than I had been.

I sat back down next to Molly, "Molz, do you know how much longer it's going to take?"

She raised half her mouth in a sad smile, "I don't Sherly, sorry." She leaned over and hugged my arm, resting her head on my shoulder, "You love him, don't you?"

I shrugged and waited for a moment before answering, "I think I do." I took another deep breath and leaned my head back against the wall.

Lestrade stood up and stretched slightly. He looked over at us and said in a cracked voice, "I'm gonna get some coffee. Want some?"

I shrugged, "Yea."

Molly nodded too but said, "I'd prefer hot chocolate right now though, if it's not too much trouble." Lestrade smiled at her and shook his head. He turned to Anderson and Donovan and they both nodded. "Thanks, 'Strade," Molly told him. He waved her off and headed of in a direction.

Then a nurse came in. Molly and I sat up expectantly but she said, "Friends and family of Darius Welsh?" Molly and I sighed a breath and sat back. I looked at the nurse, she had terrible news to tell. Her posture told me she'd done this a million times but that it got no better. The way she fidgeted with her clipboard said that she didn't want to say what she had to. Four people sat up in their seats and made affirmative noises. They stood up and gathered around the nurse. She smiled sadly at them.

A man said, "Well? Is Darius going to be okay?" Father. Darius was his son. Cancer. Known for a long time this would be the outcome.

The nurse looked painfully at them, "I'm afraid that he's not with us anymore." A woman, mother, clung to the father and wailed painfully.

The nurse gave the grandfather some papers and passed us as she began to leave. She looked at me and said sadly, "Another day and love still is watching someone die."

I nodded gravely at her and before she left I stood up, "Wait," she turned around. "Do you know anything about John Watson?"

She shook her head, "No I'm afraid I don't. Do you know what room he's in?"

My hopes fell, "No."

She waited a moment before saying, "Come with me, I bet I can find out!" She smiled at me.

I smiled back and turned to Molly, "Be right back." She followed me.

We passed Lestrade on the way to wherever the nurse went to. He turned in his tracks and followed too, "Hey, where we going?"

I heard Molly tell him, "She might know something about John's condition."

I formed a question in my mind, "Nurse,"

"Sarah."

"Sarah, how long does it usually take to get out a bullet?" I asked her.

She shrugged, "An hour? Two? Where was he shot?"

"Shoulder," I explained.

She nodded, "It depends on how deep, how big the bullet was etcetera." She half-smiled-sadly at me.

I nodded, "Okay." It worried me. John had been in there going on five and a half hours, I checked my watch.

We finally reached a desk and Sarah went behind the counter to the computer and typed some things in. After a moment she said, "Ah! Yes, here. It says he's still in surgery," she paused and trailed off, her face falling.

I grew anxious, "What is it, what's wrong?" I asked her nervously. I went behind the desk before she could say anything and read the screen. 'Been a problem. Bullet expanded upon entry. Pieces small and difficult to receive. Not all found. Blood loss major...' and it went on.

I palled and looked at Molly. She rushed over to me and held me and led me to a chair placed near the collection of desks. Lestrade put the coffee on top of the desk and talked to the nurse. She explained what happened. Lestrade explained to Molly as I sat blankly, non-feeling, non-seeing. Molly was trying to talk to me but I didn't hear her. There was only white noise.

This was my fault.

My bloody fault. If John hadn't drunk... If I had noticed... If I hadn't fallen in love... If we hadn't gotten drunk... If we hadn't gone to the party... If he didn't take the joint... If Moriarty hadn't taken him... If he wasn't a fan... If he didn't meet me... If he didn't know I existed... He would be better off. Wouldn't he?

And then the tears started, hot and furious. I curled my knees up and hugged them before Molly reached over and hugged me tightly, talking to me and telling me he was probably alright and I eventually unwrapped myself and hugged her back.

Somehow we were back in the room with the linoleum and the TV. Molly only held my hand now as the tears streamed silently on their passage down. I gripped a cup of scaldingly hot coffee in my other hand but I didn't feel it burn my fingers.

Molly rubbed my back comfortingly and I said, my voice weak and cracked and stale from crying, "It's my fault though, isn't it?"

She steeled her face, "Of course it isn't. It's that damn Moriarty's fault. The bastard slept with me then stole away you and John. So no, Sherlock. I don't bloody see how this is your fault. And don't go play that pity party passage. It's awful and ordinary, as you'd probably say." She patted my hand sternly.

I countered quickly, "This entire situation is ordinary! Molly," I looked at her, "loving someone is ordinary! But I think I'm doing that." My expression changed, my eyebrows furrowed, "But maybe it's okay to be ordinary sometimes?"

She laughed at me, "Sherlock you can be the most ordinary person in the world and you'd still be a bloody freak. I don't think you're capable of being ordinary. So shut up and drink your coffee."

I laughed at her and then felt kinda odd for laughing. It was an odd sensation, one that didn't belong in this room. I glanced at the TV that played stubbornly. I laughed again, short and almost cruel. I took a sip of the coffee. It smelled good, but tasted terribly. Bitter and almost cold by now. It was strong though and filled my nose with its scent. When I lowered it I smelled the room for the first real time, "Damn it stinks in here," I commented.

Molly looked at me and saw my wry smile and she laughed cautiously, "Yea. Like piss." I smiled at her.

Then a nurse came in. Everyone in the room's heads lifted. But it was Sarah and she was looking at our little group. It was good news. She rushed over and said, "He's okay. You can see him now."

My world ended for a second. Then soon it started up again with a renewed vigor and I stood up along with Molly and Lestrade. (Donovan and Anderson stayed there.) We trotted down the halls to where Sarah led us. She opened a door and I became somber and a little shy as I saw the scene inside.

"He's asleep. Let him rest but you can stay in here now," Sarah said softly.

I walked in quietly. I stood next to his bed and looked at the bandages that covered his entire left shoulder. I reached over cautiously and took his hand and stroked his fingers. I heard Molly, Lestrade and Sarah speaking softly amongst one another by the door. Probably explaining how I pretty much never fell in love and how this was something 'extraordinary.' I didn't care what they talked about, John was okay.

John was okay.

I smiled down at him and looked around the room. Lestrade pushed over a chair and I smiled at him, thanking him wordlessly. I sat down and kept holding John's hand, fully prepared for the wait it would take him to wake up.

Sarah left, Molly and Lestrade came in, and I thought about what Sarah had said about the cancer kid's family and her odd verse. "Love is watching someone die." Where'd she come up with that? I thought as I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

When I woke up it was darker in the room than it had been. Night had probably fallen for the patient's recovery room window was dark behind the pale curtains. Molly and Lestrade sat in the cushioned ledge of the window and I noticed them still sleeping.

But still, something had woken me and I finally looked at John who was looking at me. He smiled dreamily down at me and a slow smile spread across my own face. "Hey," he whispered to me.

"Hey," I whispered back. Our hands were still clasped firmly together.

"Sherlock," he whispered again and squeezed my hand a little.

"Yea, John?" I couldn't stop smiling at him.

He looked around the room for a second and said, "I hate hospital." He giggled quietly and I couldn't help but giggle myself.

I gasped out, "We can't giggle, it's a hospital!"

He gripped my hand even tighter as he just laughed harder. Molly and Lesrtade woke up and groggily moaned. Molly groaned out, "They're laughing again! Uugh!" She pretended to shield her eyes from us which only made us laugh harder.

Suddenly John stopped laughing and he said, "Ow, ow, ow!" His free hand flew up to his shoulder and I became worried.

"John, what is it, are you alright? Do I need to call a nurse?" I asked him anxiously.

He laughed again but said ow between laughs, "Chrissake Sherlock!" he slapped my arm, "Stop making me laugh!"

I smiled at him, "Sorry..."

He just smiled back. He took a deep breath but hitched halfway through and breathed out, "Fuck. Ow. When can I get out of this place?" He moaned.

I shrugged, "Sorry. Dunno." He just moaned again and cursed. "Is there anything I can do? Do you want like aspirin or something?"

He opened his previously squeezed shut eyes, "Yea, if they'll let me have some. I think I was so jacked up with morphine a couple hours ago but it's worn off." He looked around and then said, "Jeesh, how long have I been out?"

I shrugged, "Couple hours?"

"Gimmie your wrist," he commanded. I held up my watch and he read off, "Ten thirty. God I hate hospital," and dropped my hand but kept holding the other. "That makes like..." he tried to count in his head, "a lot of hours, Sherly." He looked over at me.

I searched him, "John, where do you live?"

He was quiet for a moment. "Not London... I live on campus. But since it's summer... I go to my mum's over summer," he looked at me, "she lives in Foghorn." (I think I just made that place up, idk, sorry English people, please tell me a place that's popular and closeish to London if you can!)

I took a breath. Foghorn. Two or so hours from London. Inaccessible. I nodded, "Right. Well. I expect you'll want to get back to your mum's, I mean, the concert's over and we need to get back on the road and all..." I trailed off.

He searched me, inner conflict obvious. He tried to sit up. I stopped him and got the bed mover button thing and got him to a sitting position. He smiled at me, "Thanks." He got grave again though and said, "Sherlock... Um, could I, do you think I could maybe. Um. Come, perhaps..."

My lips tweaked, "You can come with us, we can squeeze you in and yea, if that's what you're asking, I mean, I'd love for you to come with us and it wouldn't be a problem we're only on the road for another couple of weeks, I think a month and we're traveling, you could see stuff I think it'd be a brilliant idea for you to come..." I rattled out to him and then said quickly, "I mean, if that's what you're asking..."

He smiled at me brilliantly, "Smashingly head on actually, heh," he laughed shortly.

Lestrade made a gagging sound and Molly dramatically heaved, "Oh my god. It's too sweet. It's too sweet. It's too sweet. Just kiss already! Oh god," they said alternatively.

I rolled my eyes at them but when I turned back to John he pulled me to him and kissed me quickly on the mouth. He let me go and sat back, blushing brightly. Molly and Lestrade started cheering.

"J-John, I.." I began.

Lestrade interrupted, "Oh christ I can't deal with this anymore. Come on Molly," he pulled her up and they left the room laughing.

I looked back to John and he was still blushing at me and now biting his lip. "I-I," I stuttered, "fuck. I've wanted you to do that since we first met." I laughed and he smiled even wider. I allowed a warm smile in return.

"Sherlock," he said.

"Mm?" I hummed and put my chin on the edge of his bed.

He breathed in, "Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say your name." He smiled again. I laughed a little and buried my head in his blankets. He put a hand in my hair and then withdrew it quickly, "Ugh! Sherlock! Ye've still got the batter in your hair and on your neck!"

I raised my head and laughed, "You have it in your hair and on your neck too! You look bloody hilarious but I've been restraining myself..." I giggled.

He reached up, "Ugh!" He laughed again with the occasional ow thrown in. He flicked my ear, "You effing twat."

I held my ear and whimpered, "Ooow... I think I'll need stitches!" I moaned and looked at my hand that had previously been cupping the ear and quickly put it back on in search of blood.

He smacked my arm, "Toughen up, ta? I'm the one lying here with a shot in my arm and hooked up to twenty different bloody machines!"

I whimpered again and stuck out my bottom lip. He growled at me and started laughing. I put my head on his bed again as I said, "Look at us. You're every fan's dream right now." I reached up to his face and petted it for a moment before lowering my hand.

"I know," he whispered and petted my hair for a moment before lowering his own hand and holding the one that was still connected to mine even tighter.

I smiled dreamily at him, "I'm tired," I whispered.

He smiled, "Me too," and yawned for good measure. He patted a side of his bed and scooted over a little.

I smirked at him, "I dunno, don't wanna disturb the bandages or heart monitors or blood or anything."

"You twat, get up here now." He patted the side that didn't have any bandages near it and stubbornly said, "You're thin anyway." I just smiled at him and stood to climb in.

Something stopped me though and I stopped. I looked around the room and found a pad of paper and a pen, "Sorry love, have a writing bug. Be there in a sec." I went over to the little desk that had a lamp and the pen and paper on it. I started writing.

And it comes to pass that every plan is a tiny prayer to Father Time  
As I stared at my shoes in the ICU that reeked of piss and 409  
And I rationed my breaths as I said to myself that I'd already taken too much today  
And each descending peak on the LCD took you a little farther away from me.

Amongst the vending machines and year old magazines in a place where we only say goodbye  
It stung like a violent wind that our memories depend on a faulty camera in our minds  
But I knew you were a truth I would rather lose then to never have lain beside at all  
And I looked around at all the eyes on the ground as the TV entertained itself

Cause there's no comfort in the waiting room  
Just nervous pacers bracing for bad news  
And the nurse comes in and everyone lifts their heads  
But I'm thinking of what Sarah said:  
That "love is watching someone die."

So who's gonna watch you die?

When I was done I set the paper down and went back to John and his bed and climbed in like he still stubbornly commanded.

Molly and Lestrade came back in a few minutes later smelling like food and coffee and disinfectant. "Aawwweeeeeww," Molly started. "It's too cute, ug."

Lestrade hugged into her, "Shh, Molz!" He took her back to the seat they'd been at earlier and we all went back to sleep.

AN: hey, thank's for reading so far guys! I just wanted to check up and make sure you're all listening to the songs. They're really brilliant pieces and the musicians are also fantastic. Also! I haven't written chapter six yet and am kinda at a standstill with it because I'm not completely sure what to do next, mostly I don't really know a lot about hospital procedure - how long they keep the patients for and such. If any of you know I actually would be very happy to receive your information! 3 Oh! And several people told me about the allons-y thing, so THANK YOU!

Okay, last thing here. I'm American. *blushes* I've tried to catch onto British…slang(?) terms for use in this because they are in England and I made a really big mistake. I stated Sherlock is 20 in this and apparently it's legal for 18 years olds in Europe to drink. SORRY FOR MY IGNORANCE! You have to be 21 in America before you can buy beer and it's illegal for anyone under to drink in a bar or out. And I kinda just went crazy with the things Sherlock did in the party… I'm 14 and have nooo idea what goes on there… So yea. It might be a bit before I post chapter six. SORRY! 3


	6. Chapter 6

6. Song: Young Folks  
Band: Peter Bjorn and John  
(sorry, I don't know anything about hospitals...) oh and thanks to angele-vampiree for telling me about allons'y rather than allon-sy. Some otehr people told me too, but I'm too lazy to check now and see who all it was. I saw it spelled that way one time or another. 3

We had to wake up eventually. John wouldn't be released yet, they needed to check his wounds. And come back next week to have the doctor make sure he was healing properly. And the next.

Our plans for him coming along began to dwindle. I could just cancel the shows... But we had three left, a week each, and we had to be off in another day.

I sat rather grumpily in the chair next to his bed. John looked over at me, "Sherlock. You can't cancel the shows."

I pouted, "I know."

"It'll be alright, love," he patted my hand softly.

The nurse came in then and explained we were free to go for now. She held out John's old clothes which were freshly washed. She set them on the end of John's bed and left the room saying that we needed to go by the front desk on the way out. Molly and Lestrade left the room, leaving John and I alone once more.

I looked at him as he sat up, "Need any help?" I asked worriedly.

"I bloody well can dress my own self, Sherlock," he muttered. I didn't leave though, just stood with my arms crossed and watched him.

I threw up my arms, "Let me help you!" I went over to him and turned by back at least so he could put on his pants. "God, how many pairs of those do you have?" I commented on his red pants. I could tell he was blushing and I smiled to myself. After he was done he made a noise and I went over to help him with his trousers and jumper. The jumper was an extremely difficult task, with his shoulder still bandaged and John winced a few times in the process.

"I'm sorry, John," I told him seriously as he stood once more, now fully clothed. He just half smiled at me and we laced arms and left the little room carefully. We rejoined with Molly and Lestrade in the hall and our group went to the front desk.

Mycroft was there, handing over some check to the lady behind the counter. I stopped in my tracks and John asked, "What?" He looked to Mycroft and back to me, "What?"

There wasn't any avoiding it, "That's Mycroft."

"My- who's Mycroft?" he queried.

"An enemy," I explained.

He did another double take but saw Lestrade waltz over to him and say hello. "What? But, Lestrade-"

"Has a crush on him," I finished. I looked down at him. "Possibly."

Mycroft brushed past Lestrade and looked at me, "Ah, brother. A word, please."

"Bro- anything you've got to say to Sherlock you can say in front of me!" John stood a little straighter and held my arm a little tighter.

Mycroft looked disdainfully at John, "You must be John. No, dear boy, family matters." He looked at me, "Sherlock, now." I groaned and rolled my eyes but released John with a lingering look.

A silent conversation that went as such:

John raised his eyebrows, "You said enemy, he said brother."

I shrugged a little, "That's an enemy."

He furrowed his brows, "Wait, where are you going?"

I raised my forehead and tilted my shoulders to Mycroft, "He needs to talk! What am I supposed to do?"

He scrunched his face, "Well, not leave me for one."

I rolled my eyes, "I'll be back in a second!"

And to everyone else it was just a series of shrugs and eye movements. I let go of John's arm and followed my brother, "What d'you want?"

He patted my hair, "What have you gotten into?"

I brushed his hand away, "Cake batter. What do you want?"

He looked at me for a long time, "Sherlock, be careful. Caring is not an advantage," he leaned lightly on his umbrella.

"I don't care," I snapped, "I love. Unlike you. Bugger off if you haven't anything else to say."

I started to walk in the other direction but his voice stopped me, "He can't go with you, Sherlock. And you can't stay in one place too long." I didn't turn around. I clamped my teeth from a caching remark and walked firmly back to John where I held back onto his hand.

"Come on, John," I said and tried to pull him along.

"But the desk lady thing," he reminded me.

I stopped and rolled my eyes, "Right. Probably a bill, sorry. Here, stay here. I'll deal with this."

"Sherlock!" he exclaimed and followed me. I had already made it to the desk though where the woman told me that John's bill had been paid off by a 'Mycroft Holmes.'

Finally, somehow in all that mess, we got back to the hotel. I stayed with John in his room while Molly and Lestrade, Anderson and Donovan went back to theirs.

"Don't lay on the bed, Sherlock, you're filthy. Take a shower," he begged me kindly.

I nodded dumbly but remarked, "You're filthy too."

He laughed, "Nice try. You go take a shower in your room and I'll take one in here and you came back here after you're done, ta?"

I laughed and ran back to the room shared by Molly, Greg and I. I interrupted Greg on the loo and he shouted at me but I didn't care because by that point I was half naked and I pushed him out and stepped in the shower, the cold water hadn't yet warmed up but I still put shampoo in my hair and washed all the yuck away from my skin.

After probably six minutes I jumped out and grabbed some jeans and pants and forgot a shirt as I ran back down the hall to John's room and got shouted at in another language and almost stopped by a cleaning lady because I almost knocked down her cart. A staff person shook their fist comically at me for not wearing a shirt when I ran through the luckily mostly empty lobby.

I didn't have a keycard. And John was still in the shower. I loitered around his door awkwardly. Eventually I heard the water go off but with that came a slipping sound and a curse word and I stood up from having slid halfway down his door and said loudly, "John! John, you alright?! John?" I knocked on the door.

I heard him yell, "Give me a bleeding minute to get to the damn door!" Suddenly it was opened and he stood there looking cross. He looked me up and down, "You're not wearing a shirt." I smiled brightly at him and went inside.

"It was an accident, I promise," I laughed.

He laughed with me, "I'm sure it bloody was! Let me get you a jumper or something so you don't go streaking down the halls that are surely flooded by fangirls."

"Get your own jumper, you're still in a towel!" I told him and watched him pull one on deliberately before he walked to me and held one up to me.

"Think this'll fi-" he began and then his face fell and he lowered the navy blue piece of clothing, his eyes trained on my hips and skin. He looked up to my face, "Sherlock?"

I didn't look at him as I took the jumper from him, "I think this'll be fine, thank you."

I started to pull it on but he stopped me, "No, hold up!" He stole the jumper from me and pushed me back to the bed with his good arm that didn't have a sling. He threw the jumper aside and climbed onto the bed with me. He straddled me non-sexually. He grabbed one of my arms and examined the skin very carefully along my veins.

"John, it's nothing. Really, I..." I tried to say but a look from him told me to shut up. He took my other arm and looked at it. Then he examined my hips, the item that had caught his attention originally.

"Sherlock, what the hell is all of this?" he asked, talking about my various scars.

I couldn't look at him, "It's a long story, John. I'm not sure you want to know it all. And I'm sure you already know some of it, I mean, being a fan and all."

He gripped my chin and made me look at him, "I want to hear it from you." He let me go, "I only know some of it. I thought that information was very personal and very hard to find so I didn't read the whole article."

I shrugged, "It's nothing, really, John. There's not even that much to say. Dad hated me. Mom loved me but was often absent. Mycroft picked dad, I picked mom, we didn't see each other. It was all a very murky business. I was also a bloody genius, a sociopath... Am a sociopath, John. They call it 'high-functioning' though so I guess I'm okay. I didn't have much stimulation for my mind, I turned to music." I looked up into his eyes and tried to take his hand, "John, don't think any differently of me, please. It gets worse."

He nodded and let me up to sit up right, "Sherlock. You don't have to continue. But I do want to know your story someday."

I smiled at him. After a long moment's pause I said, "John. Write a song with me."

He was taken aback, "Couldn't possibly."

"Yes, you can," I told him, "I read that one song of yours, it was brilliant. Please? Write a song with me?"

He began to laugh, "Oh, alright. You write the first bit." He handed me his journal and a pen. I smiled at him as I began.

If I told you things I did before, told you how I used to be  
Would you go along with someone like me  
If you knew my story word for word, had all of my history  
Would you go along with someone like me

I hummed it for him and gave him the pen, "Your turn." He smiled at me and thought for a second before he wrote down.

I did before and had my share, it didn't lead nowhere  
I would go along with someone like you  
It doesn't matter what you did, who you were hanging with  
We could stick around and see this night through

He smiled at me, "Do the chorus thing." I looked at the paper and wrote it down.

And we don't care about the young folks  
Talking 'bout the young style  
And we don't care about the old folks  
Talking 'bout the old style too

I smirked at him, "Want a challenge?"

"Not really," he laughed.

"Too bad. Write a second chorus." I handed him the pen.

And we don't care about our own faults  
Talking 'bout our own style  
All we care about is talking  
Talking only me and you

He finished and said, "There. Done?"

I shook my head, "Nope." I scribbled down.

Usually when things have gone this far, people tend to disappear  
No one will surprise me unless you do  
I can tell there's something goin' on, hours seems to disappear  
Everyone is leaving, I'm still with you

I smiled at him again and handed him the pen. He looked at the paper and groaned before quickly writing.

It doesn't matter what we do, where we are going to  
We can stick around and see this night through

He shoved the pen back to me and I wrote the rest.

And we don't care about the young folks  
Talking 'bout the young style  
And we don't care about the old folks  
Talking 'bout the old style too

And we don't care about our own faults  
Talking 'bout our own style  
All we care about is talking  
Talking only me and you

And we don't care about the young folks  
Talking 'bout the young style  
And we don't care about the old folks  
Talking 'bout the old style too

And we don't care about their own faults  
Talking 'bout our own style  
All we care about is talking  
Talking only me and you  
Talking only me and you

Talking only me and you  
Talking only me and you

By the end I was smiling at him as he read it. He looked back up at me. I asked anxiously, "Good?"

He made a disgusted face, "It's awful." My own face fell and I looked at the paper and back to him. He laughed as he continued, "Awful good!" I stared at him for a second before I smacked his good arm and laughed.

"You twat," I called him through breaths.

He laughed, "You're the only twat here!"

I feigned shock, "Am not!"

He laughed at me, "Are too!"

I laughed again and lay back, "You're probably right." I breathed and he lay back on me, holding onto my stomach. I looked over at him and whispered in his ear, "Are you wearing your red pants?" I giggled.

He giggled as well and whispered back, "Why are you so interested in my pants?"

"Mm, because I totally want to get in them someday," I looked in his eyes and they shone as he bit his lower lip slightly. He slowly leaned forward and started to kiss me. I kissed him back, placing a hand on his neck and moving with him slowly.

AN wow it's been a while. Sorry. Had no idea I'd finished chapter 6 and so i was trying to finish it but like different and on my laptop (wrote this on my iPod). Hum. Also have chapter 7 done. Lol. Thank you all for waiting; I appreciate every one of you. 3


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